Do I Look Like a Comedian

Do I look like a comedian? Because I’m walking down the street and this guy comes up and claims “Hey, I got a good routine for you,” something like that, and then a pause, and says “Fat Cop Relief Fund.” And I’m like, ~It’s got a promising ring to it, but no thanks man.>

Next he’s “What, you too good for me?:”

~It’s not about being too good for you, I don’t even know you.> I reply. ~I’m too good for that. I’m not doing that kind of material.>

He’s like “yYeah I hear you . Cool. I got something better for you, though: yYou go after the firefighters!”

!~ Lord, man.> I say , no one touches the firefighter stuff; everyone loves their local Fire Station crew. I go after the firefighters, my whole act goes down in flames.>

And he laughs and I say, really,  ~See, I got my own material. Thanks.

And besides, Brigade.>

“What?” he asks.

~Brigade, not Fund. I would change it to Relief Brigade.>

And he says, ‘‘‘‘‘man that’s on, that’s something completely different.” And I nod with a casual lack of modesty – which is a shameful spin on immodesty, honestly – and go on my way as he turns back in his direction.

Then / though / I start thinking, what’s with this guy? He trying to sell me something? Trying to sell me jokes? Need money?

I’ve never seen him before, couldn’t tell anything about him except that he’s responsible – he was all masked up for Covid and this was a serious mask, covered his whole lower face, and he even rocked goggles. I couldn’t tell anything about this person. Couldn’t tell his age, couldn’t racially profile him to tie that into the bit he was peddling – could nearly have been a lady for all you could tell, the way the mask muffled the voice.

See, here’s the thing., : It was just a nose, and mouth, all masked up, floating up the street; and the goggles – I am pretty sure there were eyes behind the goggles.

So then I glance back to get another look and now it’s everything but the nose and mouth and for sure no eyes, all dressed to kill. And I think, ~Well now that’s hilarious.>

Return of Casting

 He sat patiently

anticipating the return of the casting of spells;

his big break:

they'd see what a wizard he was.

The landline rang,

secure against air mystics

but susceptible to the ground wiles.

Suddenly his skin was burning.

They'd tricked him with science!

But his timing was barely off.

In a fortnight spells were trending as he'd hoped.

He shook off the diagrams and calculations.

He smashed the vile.

and he turned his mind to magic.

Perfectly everything stopped; 

he had executed the Weaving of the Wrenches.

But none were not paused / nary an active soul there was to know it. 

And when he unwove it expertly, with a thought, none felt the awakening —

all was merely as it had been, none the wiser. None, save his familiar: a

marsupial he'd

invented

  back when he

wore a lab coat.

Cruel mastery, hiding its own magnificence, 

said the familiar's eyes.

2020 California Fires

 Saw the headline

    2020 California Fires

and for a second thought it was the number burning

I Told Time

I told time
and time listened
.

Nurse Dima

Ages ago a lady and I were planning for international travel and shots were in order.

The charming vaccinating nurse swooned for what she saw between us, which she named boldly and unhesitatingly. There was nothing indecorous in her manner– her flirtation sweet and innocent, stemming from earnest wonderment as she momentarily bemoaned her own solitary lot. 

Wanting to know how we met, then fantasizing impractically about placing herself into the same situation because –starry-eyed and gazing–  “I’d be happy with someone like either of you…”

“Oh, Nurse Dima!” we both exhaled exaltedly, once out the door, a touch astonished and just perhaps more than a wee bit smitten.

Wishing vaccination and love to that fine practitioner of the medical arts, wherever and whoever she is.

You all, too.

Overheard on walk:

man– "I didn't think you were going to kill it and throw it away, okay!?"

woman– "I told you I would."

I Wrote A Scandal

I wrote a scandal and passed it off as a memoir.

The reviews were horny.

The paste-up posters proliferated, on barricades and online.

The sweet sound of secess was burglarizing the airwaves,

and the new Miss America soared through them 'til they carried her song.

Farmingly They Went

Farmingly they went about planning the architecture of distribution.

Egalitarian detour.

Then it came down to business.

OT 06/25(2)0(2)0

There I was, minding my own business - well, I was on a case, tailing a lead, but otherwise minding my own business - when this unrepentant hottie walks up from the other side of my café au lait and drops this news on me:
– The cops already cracked it."

The cops, the cops I think. They would crack it all wrong, and worse they'd crack it further.
– The cops?" I ask

– Did I say cops?" smiles the hottie. – I meant the company." and with that, is gone.

The company, the company I think. Not the company I keep, though. Not in ages. This was not the case I thought I was on. I don't know what I was on, and that I suddenly knew. Something in the café. Did the hottie drop it in there, while dropping the news? Or was that a fair warning, and if so… then who?

I had to get on my feet, into my transport, and out of there while I still could. Surely my apprehension would give way to being apprehended if I could not elude that couple in the shade; that was clear to see, they were a bit on the nose, strictly central casting in mountain time. I headed, counter to my nature and placing my moniker in bright relief, lurchingly into the sun. Overcoat Thrust, the world's detective, for all to see.

I was trained to combat such effects introduced into my natural system. Trained by the company. The training stuck. It was awakened now, long dormant. I brought it forth thru a trick of focus, and the result took me from the border of the witching hour to the reins of high noon in a few increasingly confident steps. No longer did I need strive for the escape of my transport. I turned assuredly toward the couple from across the courtyard and pulled back the shade. They withered and shrieked. Devils.

Whoever tried to giving me the slip only to slip me something had devils in their employ. Devils work cheap, when you've got 'em where you want 'em. But I went one better. I had them exactly where I needed them be. They were beholden to my beckoning now. The cloven game was afoot.

All This Social Distancing

All this social distancing clears the way for some emotional vacuuming.

not a poem: On Patrol

The best comic book-to-screen adaptation of 2019 was not the serviceable Avengers Endgame. It certainly wasn’t the overrated, self-congratulatory, uncredited King of Comedy remake about some Joker, nor was it the surprisingly enjoyable Spider-Man: Far From Home. It wasn’t even on the big screen at all. It was clearly HBO’s Watchmen. I had many a good reason to despise it (see crooked history of publisher's treatment of the authorial rights, and long list of horrible adaptations of Alan Moore and his stance on them), but it was great - especially the first half or so. Much has been written about that show.

Second best was another small screen DC property, Doom Patrol. No live action show or even movie has been as willing and able to be as insanely creative and off the wall, yet deeply character driven, wild, and zany as the best of mainstream meta / super / action comics can be. Doom Patrol likely had this opportunity by virtue of being created for a streaming service aimed directly at fans of the source medium. Guardians certainly pulled this all off too, to an extent, but the one hour weekly installment format of this TV franchise is much more analogous to a comic book run than a feature length film is. Also, when after ten years as THE box office behemoth Marvel / Disney was still just teasing whether Carol Danvers and/or Valkyrie maybe like the ladies (or, guess at a guy or two) this show has been unabashedly queer.

Catch up on season one, if you’re interested. Looks like season two has commenced.

My New Literary Journal

My new literary journal,
Occasional Freeway,
is god-awful.

On The Cheap

Nice soap, on the cheap
is nicer than cheap soap.

It's true of all things.

Is this what I think

Is this what I think it is?" asked the mhystical elf, "If it is I'm gonna be ashamed of myself."

 – No, no, it'snothinglikethat " said the twerp faced punk, "It's just your royalty check."

seeks battle armoire

.– former nudist seeks battle armoire against coming apocalypse –.

"'"We may not make it past the first row of demons; they sure as Hell ain't getting Pastus,"'" said one of the many other formal nudists– this one formerly close to the star.

they settled on spandex, for they va;lued their agility above all else. Mouths, ears, and such were fitted with a special alloy. The eyes, per custom, were visored.

tHey moved ahead with grace.


~*~*~*~****~**~~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~~~~~~~*~**~*

two: a moment for love

The demons needn't ready. They were mere creations for the task at H.A.N.D. And so, at H.A.N.D. Headquarters - in the lull in the shadows of the flickering clouds - the demons had a moment for love.


~*~*~*~****~**~~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~~~~~~~*~**~*

~3*~* last flicker of the cloud *~*~

H.A.N.D. HEAD, the lead demon, held the globe in the palm of their head. It fit just right, for their head housed the sun.


~*~*~*~****~**~~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~~~~~~~*~**~*

Four

Horsemen precluded the battle.

TheseWereTheEnemies

it wasn’t much further than going into the yard, but did i bother? 

Her new omen was false, i could not share in her pride.

We had a job to do. How dare her, with the jokes? Zs were the enemy, didn’t she realise?  Thesze were the enemies, 

folds in

What a nightmare when
 one moment
 the bright side folds all in on itself.

issueoffire

the issue of the fire

there was the issue of the fire

burning as it were

juggled soot with the enemies

i juggled soot with the enemies of freedom.


they reveled in the masque caricature it provided, and the excuse it gave to sing songs they loved in their prejudiced hearts.


i was trying to bring them down, see? but it was a dirty business and i was regardless too adumbral to gain their full trust.


Their trust made them vulnerable I just needed a new approach. But who to assist me?


~~~~

it’s been a rough tumble since I dared outlive Jesus.

I escaped the cross, but not the betrayal
.

only to be beset by a battalion of betrayals planting a bonanza of bitter kisses.

~~~~ end, interlude one


~~~~ ~~~~

only the absolute fewest know that grocery shopping with me when we’re in love is the deepest expression of romance. otherwise it’s just me spending 10% of my purchase on xylitol sweetened black licorice chewing gum.


~~~~ end, interlude two ~~~~

former poet

former poet seeks future mischief, contemporary sustenance, and semi-nightly talk show on two different networks who alternate time slots.

My 1st Record Review, Still in The Crib

if a band is a living thing and the beatles exemplars of that, this “let it be” is a posthumous compilation of discards from an aborted project, doctored up long after the fact by a creep. it nonetheless is the home of I’ve Got A fEeling and Dig A Pony. (My first record review, still in the crib)

I felt for her

i felt for her like someone who had a right to might, but i knew how it would middle before it began so it never. yet there she was, in the center of it all, the monochrome toning down the hope. In the entrance she asked for the light. I found it darkly and flipped the switch. her manner brought the absent scent to the dry ice doorway. the scene was false but this miss was almost 100% real.

Christ Is Keeping His Shroud On

Christ is keeping His shroud on this go-around, just in case He coughs. Please follow His selfless example. 

He just shed His Corona de Cristo, mind you;
 knows suffering so you don't have to 
    k)no)w Death  / 
       was the plan  / 
          so stick to it  .

The Son of man is up in the woods, two metres from Thomas but a good block or more from Peter. A woodland block; a woodland metric block, by Christ.

Thomas is near enough to see the wounds, yet doesn't even peek. Turns out he's the true believer, see? In the truth, in truth.

At the peak of the Levantine hilly Apostle walk, risen as He is, Christ asks of the close-knit crew in their tightly woven face coverings, "Speak freely: where is Mary? Where is the anointer?"

Having caught up, heedlessly traversing a thicket of prickly bushes, arriving needlessly adorned with clinging reminders of the teacher's agony, New World Peter says "As she is female, and not worthy of the kingdom, I gave her wayward directions. We shan't be seeing her here, Lord Jesus."

"You," said the mapped Messiah, "are unfit even to mislead. You are dumb as a rock."
"In a Word," says Mary, right beside Him. They needn't distance, living together.

I can't get over the sky.

the sky the sky the sky
.

I can't get over the sky.

Dragon Rhyme

I’d like to slay a fucking dragon; I’m tired of wrestling the abyss.

The imperative for embracing life revised.

It's moved up on the schedule.

What's left of Joe Biden

What's left of Joe Biden can save us.

ONE WAY

Was walking a street and saw I was facing this sign:
 END ONE WAY
   ,
and I thought
        – or another.

I wish you

I love everybody, except those I don't. Neither part of equation includes strangers. But I wish you all good health.

Maxed out

Maxed out, passed over, done in, and hopefully not under the weather, the cartoon stars tread lightly.

huddled

Shivering and in need of cocoa, they huddled in the igloo.

Social distancing

Social distancing is my slow jam.

danger trollop and discovery sidekick

Candy face danger trollop and discovery sidekick fellow in the fancy pants went to the places where the people were low and worry beading over dying or worse losing out on love, and brought joy they did; they brought joy.